


The Notes of my Agony

by ZiggyStardustFanGirl



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen (Song), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, 1970s Era Queen (Band), AU, Accidents, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Brian May - Freeform, Car Accidents, Flashbacks, Freddie Mercury - Freeform, Gay, Hospitals, Hurt Brian May, Hurt Freddie Mercury, Hurt John Deacon, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Internal Monologue, John Deacon - Freeform, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Injuries, POV Brian May, POV Freddie Mercury, POV John Deacon, Pain, Panic, Queen (Band) References, Roger Taylor - Freeform, Serious Injuries, Song: Bohemian Rhapsody, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiggyStardustFanGirl/pseuds/ZiggyStardustFanGirl
Summary: Basically, it’s 1975, Bohemian Rhapsody is number one, and the boys are off to celebrate, when An unfortunate situation sends everything spinning into chaos...
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Fame - What You Get Is No Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title derived from the David Bowie song, Fame.

It was Fred’s fault. It was his idea to celebrate. The album had hit the charts, and being his usual self, he took any opportunity to get absolutely hammered. Or at least that had been the plan. He had nobody left. And now, the guilt was crushing him. He could still hear that scream, and it would follow him for the short remainder of his life, the sound haunting him as he finished planning his demise.  
It is Friday. Friday the 7th of November 1975, a dull but dry afternoon, that could, for most people in London, have been considered a fairly average day. But on the border between Surrey and Sussex, excitement was brewing in a small, red Alpha Romeo that was speeding through the winding country roads from Ridge Farm Studios, on its way to the nearest bar for a modest party in honour of the band’s single hitting number one.  
Roger was driving, not because he was a good driver, but because he was the only one with a car, and nobody, and I mean nobody was allowed to drive his precious baby. In the passenger seat, was Brian, a tall, lanky beanpole of a man, who barely fitted in the seat of the tiny car, and who’s knees were folded almost to his chest, and in retrospect, wasn’t the safest position to be in, seatbelt or not.  
Fred and John were squished into the back seats, bumping and jolting back and forth as the vehicle powered over the country lanes, conversation was flitting between energetic conversation and teasing, and currently, Fred was taunting Roger about his song.  
“But it’s about a car, darling! It’s just not strong enough! Seriously dear, I don’t know what came into your head! With your hand on my grease gun? That’s very subtle!”  
Roger turned in his seat just enough to give Fred a disgusted look. “It’s a METAPHOR!“ He turns back to look at the road. “Anyway, you’re only mad, because you know it’s better than your song.”  
Brian sighs, and they continue in silence for a couple of minutes. In his boredom, Fred decides to poke Roger, which in hindsight, was not the most intelligent thing to do; since the first rule of being in a car, is do not distract the driver.  
After that, everything happened very quickly. Almost the instant Fred’s short, black nailed finger made contact with the ticklish part of Roger’s neck, it all went quite pear shaped. As Roger yelled and spun in his seat, John gave a cry of panic, and Brian lunged for the wheel.  
Roger twisted back around to face the wheel in time to see bright, white lights filling their vision, as Brian twisted the wheel sharply to the left, causing the car to swerve sharply to side of the road, swerving, specifically so only the passenger side would be hit. In that split second, the vast truck struck the right side tiny car.


	2. John

The car was like a twig in a storm, thrown violently on its side on impact, and Fred thought the whiplash felt as though his head ways being ripped from his shoulders. Head spinning with pain, the sound of Roger’s scream seemed almost amusing. Or at least it was, until the sound of breaking glass cut it short.  


Roger had gone flying through the front windscreen, proving the point of always wear a seatbelt.  


The sound of shattering had snapped John back into consciousness as Fred’s head thumped off the roof of the car, knocking him out.  


John was hanging from his seatbelt, since he was intelligent enough to wear one; and the blood was rushing to his head. He pulled on the belt and slid onto the inside roof of the car. The ringing in his ears was building, and he reached reflexively for the door handle, feeling horribly claustrophobic.  


There was no door handle. In all honesty, there may as well have been a solid wall, and had the car been hit any harder, there wouldn’t have been any John left either.  


He turned to look over at Fred, and flinched. John wasn’t a fan of injuries and blood at the best of times, and he could see there was quite a lot of it running in a slick, scarlet stream from his temple and down his left arm. Fred was hanging upside down, kept in place by the driver’s seat which had been pushed back, trapping his legs; and John was desperate to get out of the vehicle before he passed out again, in the hope that fresh air would give him strength to get the others out of the car.  


Keeping his friend in his peripheral vision, he decided looking at the front seats was not a good idea, so he focused on the door, and only the door. Ducking under Fred’s arm, he reached for the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. He tried the window. Still nothing. Finally, throwing all his weight against the door and yanking the handle, it swung outwards, broke off its hinges and clattered onto the ground with a painfully loud bang.  


John crawled out onto the grass verge beside the car, and lay on his back, sighing heavily. Nothing hurt other than the whiplash in his neck, but he considered the fact that could have been the adrenalin; so he sat up tentatively, facing away from the car, to check himself over.  


“You ok?”  


John yelped, caught off guard as a shadow was cast over him and someone spoke. He turned around and Brian offered his hand to help him up.  


“I’ve felt better—-“ He was interrupted when he turned to speak to Brian, as a groan was heard from the car, which was still in the middle of the road.  


“We should get them out, if someone comes round that corner it’ll cause a pile up.” Brian coughed, and a rattling noise ensued. He strode over to the car and John cautiously followed, and watched as Brian leant into the back seat, unbuckled Fred’s belt, forced the driver’s seat forward with a crack, and helped him out of the car, before turning back to face him. “Go hail another car, Deaky, we’re gonna need someone to call an ambulance. And put something on the road to warn oncoming vehicles.”


	3. Brian

His head was spinning as he struggled to haul Fred’s dead weight while John jogged off to try and catch the attention of someone who could help them. A portable phone would have been useful right about now. He noted there was a strange numbness in his right side and he needed to sit down, but that wasn’t an option. Right now, he didn’t matter. 

He had checked himself over, and didn’t notice any signs of an injury, or at least one he knew of. He dropped Fred carefully onto the grass, a good 40 feet away from the wreckage, which was beginning to smoke. That was concerning. He was glad he hadn’t brought his guitar. 

He knelt down and quickly checked for any visible signs of injury, but there was nothing but a blunt force wound on his temple, and the bleeding appeared to have ceased. Clearly John and Fred had been saved by the back seats of the car. 

While Fred was starting to come to consciousness beside him, Brian’s mind reminded him that there had been another occupant of the car. Roger had majored in biology. He would be able to tell if something was wrong. Roger... a growing sensation of nausea began to build in his stomach. The windscreen. 

He glanced over at the car’s shattered front. The bonnet was nonexistent, and the glass from the windscreen had sprayed outwards in shards of varying sizes, glittering in a grimly beautiful way across the pothole riddled tarmac. Part of him feared letting his eyes travel any farther. Yet he had to. He couldn’t procrastinate on this, with a potential for life being at risk. The band had done so much for him, and to ruin it now, while everything was going so well... his eyes strayed further, further up the road where, about 20 feet ahead of where he was standing with Fred at his feet. 

Roger was lying by the side of the road. 

Motionless. 

Through much determination he jogged forward to take a closer look at the damage. The first thing he noticed was Roger’s foot. The right foot had been twisted in the most unnatural way, as if something had compressed and twisted it around the ankle like some sort of putty. As for his arms, they both had large shards of glass wedged deeply into his flesh. A bone on his leg was poking horribly out of his skin. The glass around him twinkled red with his scarlet blood decorating something that could barely be considered someone’s body. Brian couldn’t yet see his face. He could, however, see pale white through the dark matter of the deeper gash in his arm. He dry gagged at the sight of bone. Around him were small patches of sticky, congealed blood. 

Brian felt a strange sense of calm. He presumed that was the shock. He should have peen panicking. Why wasn’t he panicking? He looked back at Roger. A thought sprung into his mind. Pulse! 

He leant over his friend, and he nearly threw up from a spontaneous gag. These injuries were horrific and concussion would be another story, that was, if he wasn’t dead already. Dead. That made Brian feel cold inside. To think the last thing he would ever get to say to his friend would be to make a stab at a song he poured his heart and soul into...


	4. Brian

He leaned forward further, and carefully pushed his fingertips into Roger’s neck, just under his jaw. 

_thump. thump. thump._

__With a sigh of relief, he heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see John, helping Fred over to where he was sitting, supporting the oldest member’s body weight on his shoulder.  
_ _

__

__

John was 10 feet away when he seemed to realise what Brian was doing. He sped up, half dragging Fred, a look of concern on his face. “I found someone! There’s an ambulance on the way, and Horsham Hospital is only five miles away—-“ John was panic rambling. Brian decided to cut him off. 

“Don’t come any closer Deaky. Neither of you can unsee this.” 

John’s face fell but he took a few steps back and diverted his eyes. Freddie was conscious now, with one hand pressed to the side of his head. It looked as if he were about to speak when they were distracted by the sound of sirens in the distance. Brian had to admit, it was relieving to hear, his own dizziness was coming back.

But right now, he didn’t matter. 

The four of them remained in the middle of the road. John had dragged a piece or two of the broken vehicle and left them in front of a blind corner, a warning of an accident ahead, and Brian didn’t want to risk trying to move Roger right now. It was already miraculous that no arteries or important blood vessels had been cut where the lacerations were, and he had no idea if there was any damage to Roger’s stomach or chest. He was more or less in the recovery position. 

It was just their luck that the only person in the band that was medically trained was the casualty. 

The ringing in his ears was starting to irritate him, becoming more noticeable as the shock wore off. A dull pain was beginning to grow in his chest, and his head was throbbing. 

but right now, that didn’t matter. 


	5. Fred

Fred felt irritatingly helpless. He found he could barely speak, which was panicking him a little, or had been until he remembered what happened before he passed out. 

He’d seen Roger go flying through the windscreen, and now Brian was blocking his view and John wouldn’t let him closer and he couldn’t speak to voice his opinion. His head hurt. He wanted to say that too. But at least he had his teeth. 

Did he have his teeth? 

His stomach flipped as he ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth and relief washed over him. 

He had his teeth. 

he could hear a siren getting closer, and was aware of John lowering him down so they could hail the oncoming ambulance. He felt like a child. He was the oldest, _he _should be taking care of them, all of them.__

__Roger’s mother had told him to keep him safe. And he’d just caused an accident._ _

___This was his fault._ _ _

___All his fault._ _ _

___The ambulance pulled up a moment later and as the paramedics stepped out, they looked concerned. They asked Brian to step back, and their bodies blocked his view before he could get a good look. He didn’t like the expressions on their face. He could feel a nasty sensation of a panic attack building in his chest._ _ _

___Another group of paramedics must have arrived, because a moment later, two walked up to him, one trying to lift him from under his arms into an upright position, while the other slipped a foil blanket around him. The panic died down with the heat from it._ _ _

___“Let’s get you up, shall we? Into the ambulance Mr Mercury, and we’ll check you over.”_ _ _

___What felt like seconds later, he was sitting in the back of a second ambulance that had been called, with Brian on one side, and John on the other. They seemed fine. They appeared fine anyway. Brian was shivering, or maybe that was shaking. It wasn’t exactly cold._ _ _

___He might have a concussion. That’s what he thought they said. He hadn’t really been focusing. And he could hear an unfamiliar voice droning on, melting into the ringing in his ears, the adrenalin burning in his chest._ _ _

____This was his fault. All his fault. _____ _


	6. Brian

They reached the hospital minutes later, and multiple people helped them out of the ambulance. Then they were hurried through a set of double doors, into a horribly sterile, white, strong smelling waiting room and before Brian could say anything, separated. 

Fred was hurried into a side room, while John flopped down in one of the sticky, mint green chairs. He let out a long sigh. 

Brian was still standing, feeling, and most likely looking, confused and disoriented. His head felt as though it were a stuffed toy, his vision blurring slightly, his hearing muffled, as though he was wrapped in bubble wrap. He heard John’s voice but it sounded far away, as though he were in a club, but the bass was the blood pounding in his ears. Then suddenly everything sharpened again. He winced at the sudden clearness. 

”Brian? Brian? Y’know you should really sit down. We’re gonna be here a while.” 

He staggered a few steps, and slid into the seat beside John, slumping down until he was almost lying down. 

”Bri? It’ll wear off. It’s just the shock. I feel shitty too, but they get Rog sorted it’ll get better, ok?” 

He nodded in agreement. They were gonna be here a while. John slowly stood up, and walked across the room to a water machine. He reached for two of those while plastic cups and filled them, walking back and sitting down. 

“Y’know you should rehydrate. You look pretty pale man, it might help.” 

he handed Brian the cup, and he took it. He had to admit the sweat was lashing off him and he was surprised at how thirsty he was when he put the cup to his lips. He downed the lot. 

“I could really do with something stronger, Deaky.” His voice felt smaller than usual, and although he wasn’t usually a drinker, something to take the edge off was an appealing idea. Something much stronger than water. John raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s my job to get drunk, and frankly I don’t think a hospital is going to sell alcohol. And on top of that, it can’t be the best idea. We should be alert.” 

Hours passed slowly, and it must have been 9 o’clock before anything happened. 4 hours of holding their breath. 4 hours of heart in mouth panic every time a door opened. 4 hours of painful waiting. 

There was a creaking sound and they both turned to see Fred step into the waiting room with some stitches in his temple and a bandage on his left wrist. He made his way over to them. 

“Turns out I’ve fractured my wrist darling! But I can speak now which is nice. God, you’ve no idea how irritating it is to not voice your opinion! I didn’t even know you could paralyse your vocal cords, but apparently I managed it. Have you heard anything on roger?” 

Brian remained silent. He had nothing to say. How could Fred seem so upbeat? Did he know something they didn’t? His head hurt. It was a stabbing pain now, and the numbness had filled his side. His vision was still blurry, almost as though in slow motion. He needed sleep. He wanted to go home. He wanted Roger to be fine. He wished this had never happened, whether that meant no Bohemian Rhapsody. Whether it meant no Queen. 

There was a noise behind them, another door opening. 

“Roger Taylor’s party?”


	7. Fred and Brian

The words spoken by the nurse sent icy cold shivers through Fred’s body. Anxiety burned in his stomach and his head spun. If this was bad news, it would be his fault. He couldn’t dream of what he would say to poor Roger’s mother. The woman had been through so much already. 

The nurse called them for a second time, snapping each out of their panicked trances. They made their way over to the nurse. Her face was unreadable, from years of spilling horrible news to those waiting in the emergency room. Fred held his breath, searching for something in her face. _Anything._

__“Looks like you’re friend is going to pull through on this one! I’m not saying he’s getting off Scot free, but he will live.”_ _

__There was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the band. Fred felt as though the weight of a dead body had been lifted off his shoulders, and in a way, it had._ _

__It must have been a good ten minutes later when they were told they could leave. The nurse had informed them they had decided to keep roger overnight, but Fred was free to go home with the others, and to come back if he experienced anything on a list of concussion symptoms they had given him. He felt a sense of relief over himself. A weight lifted. He would have to tell Roger’s mother what had happened but at least he didn’t have to break any seriously bad news to her._ _

__They were headed for the doors, and he lead the way with the others following until John called him back to stop._ _

__“Fred! Wait!”_ _

__He turned back to see John and Brian a couple of meters back. John had hold of Brian’s arm, and he was leaning on the wall with a dazed expression and glassy eyes._ _

___Brian’s POV_ _ _

__He had been feeling a lot better until they started moving. Making his way towards the entrance, thinking he could make it to the car he realised he couldn’t and attempted to grab hold of John’s arm, and his head spin again, vision going black at the edges, plunging him back into tunnel vision, and this time it didn’t fade._ _

__The ringing in his ears grew and as he leant back on the wall John’s voice in his ears faded. His legs hurt. Everything was throbbing painfully. He wanted to sit down before he passed out. He felt rather confused. He wasn’t in much pain other than a sensation of muscle fatigue, a sort of pain he would get after a difficult gig. But he couldn’t see or hear. He vaguely recalled sliding down the wall, knees hunched to his chest. He couldn’t see or hear anything, but the harsh ringing in his ears but he was moving._ _

__Why was he moving?_ _

___“Brian?! Brian!_ _ _


	8. Fred

John was kneeling in-front of Brian who had slid down onto the floor, suddenly unresponsive, his eyes glassy and hooded, pupils blown wide. He was shaking him desperately, calling his name, hoping for a response, but it only concerned him more, he moved like a rag doll as John tried to get something. Anything. 

Fred was calling for a nurse, a doctor, anyone more professional than they were and John felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him back and away from Brian as a doctor dropped down in-front, blocking his view. The shock wore off all of a sudden and as he blacked out he heard voices and a doctor calling out. __

_”Code red, we’ve got a code red!”_

Fred could hear the rising panic in the doctor’s voice, and watched helplessly as a couple of nurses lifted John into a nearby chair before moving over to help the doctor. He heard running footsteps, and the squealing rattle of metal wheels on a gurney. A gurney. They hadn’t put Roger on a gurney. And then came a medic with a blood bag. Why would he need a blood bag? Brian wasn’t injured! And what the hell did code red mean?! 

In what seemed to be a moment of inspiration through his panic, he dove for a medical encyclopaedia as Brian was carted off on the gurney. He hurriedly flipped it open, nearly dropping it from the unexpected weight. 

_F._

_J._

_Q._

_R._

_Ra._

_Re..._

_Red._

_Code Red...._

_Medical Code for Massive Haemorrhage...._

He dragged his finger down the definition, scanning the words. 

_Sever internal blood vessel rupture and internal blood loss._

_Emergency response required._

The book slid out of his hands and into the floor with a thud. Panic rose in his chest. He’d been so worried by Roger he’d ignored the idea of invisible injury. He’d ignored Brian completely. How could he!? Brian was always so selfless. Of course he would ignore it if he felt unwell. Of course he wanted to make sure Roger was fine before he got assistance. 

And now it was his fault. He was going to have to phone Brian’s parents. He’d be fine though. Roger was much worse off and he was fine! Wasn’t he? 

He heard footsteps behind him and spun on his heel. The doctor was standing there. His face grim, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry. “ 

Fred felt light headed. 

_“If he’d got attention sooner he might have survived...”_


	9. The Queen is Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song by The Smiths - The Queen is Dead

Brian Harold May was pronounced dead from a major haemorrhage at 9:23pm on the 7th November, 1975. 

John Deacon committed suicide on the 13th January, 1976, after retiring from the public eye after the accident, unable to cope with his depression. 

Roger Taylor moved to Cornwall after being discharged from hospital on the 1st February 1976. He was unable to get into contact with Freddie and was informed of the deaths of his other two band mates. He hasn’t been heard from since with the media blaming him for being behind the wheel. 

Freddie Mercury was found dead in his home in London, on the 24th November 1976, just over a year after his accident, after suffering from severe depression, crushed by the guilt and convinced he murdered his best friend. 

_Pass the Pub who saps your body_

_And the church who'll snatch your money_

_The Queen is dead, boys_

_And it's so lonely on a limb_

_Pass the Pub that wrecks your body_

_And the church - all they want is your money_

_The Queen is dead, boys_

_And it's so lonely on a limb_

_Life is very long when you're lonely..._


End file.
